You want to be a better copywriter? Start smoking.*

I’m sitting in a restaurant known for its good Italian food and the selection of wines that go with it. I’m just having wine.

It was a spontaneous visit, and nobody except the owner knew me. After failing to bargain for a table, I convinced the host that I write for the restaurant, and was allowed to sit down for a drink. Or maybe he was just tired of arguing with me.

Sitting there, nursing my red, I looked around.

Notebook open, page empty, pen twirling in between my fingers. The restaurant was prettier on the inside. Dim lights, a red accent wall, and violin-heavy music gave it a sophisticated ambiance. Most Italian restaurants look prettier on the inside.

But I wasn’t paid to drink wine and admire the atmosphere. I had to write something that would make people want to experience this for themselves.

Who am I writing for?

Before you start writing, you need to know who your reader is. This is true for novelists, poets, and copywriters alike.

Taking another swallow of the red, I looked around again.

This time, I focused on the people. It seemed to be a favored place for dates, and there were many tables for two. At those tables, women and men holding hands, smiling at each other, and engaging in deep conversations. There was a family, too. The children with gelled-back hair and an upright seating position looked almost aristocratic.

In marketing, you learn that crafting a message based solely on assumptions isn’t good enough. You have to gather data before making decisions. I needed to know what made people like this choose a restaurant like that.

Walking up to them and interrupting their dinner for a short interview would hardly be appropriate. I tried to listen to their conversations but couldn’t hear anything. Everyone was speaking softly, almost whispering.

So I went for a smoke.

When I saw a guy go out for the second time tonight, his pack of cigarettes gone from the table with him, I threw on my jacket and went after him.

It’s time for a confession. I don’t actually smoke.

I wasn’t trying to get you to fuck up your lungs or help you justify your bad habits. It’s just an edgy title to get you interested. And here you are now, right? So, please forgive me. I actually do have some advice.

I roll my own green tea cigarettes. No nicotine, no addiction. The Vietnamese have been doing it for decades.

The man outside the restaurant already had his cigarette glowing in between his lips. I lit my own dummy smoke.

“It’s my first time in this restaurant. Quite nice,” I said to him.

“It is. I come here all the time. It’s my favorite in Zurich,” he answered.

Over the next few minutes, I asked him why it was his favorite restaurant, what other restaurants he liked, what made this one unique, what he didn’t like, how he heard about it first, what he’d tell others about it, and I got all the material I needed from this conversation.

A regular survey would have yielded answers like “there’s a good wine selection,” or “the staff is nice.” But outside the restaurant, between two people having a smoke, there is no need for professional courtesy or reservation.

Smokers get all the action.

There’s still always a pack of American Spirit in my inside-right jacket pocket. You’d be surprised how often offering a cig comes in handy when you want to make friends or bribe strangers.

Smokers have their own little club. A non-verbal gesture—which could be badly misinterpreted in two different ways—is enough to remove a fellow smoker from the crowd for a private chat. And once you’re huddled up in the cold together, you can all drop the social filter.

Try it. Roll some green tea leaves (or buy a pack of cigarettes, I’m not your dad) and join the smokers. You’ll be surprised by the conversations you become a part of.

Enjoy!

– Pat